#courtesy of writer

[artsyfangirl]

A Hero’s Job

@112-writes

‘What the fuuuuccckkkk!!!!’ Screams erupt, the culprit being Writer, as they scamper around the corner of a hallway, wild look in their eyes like a cat fallen into water.

They run past a few Egos, all confused but amused at the same time. Wilford catches them by the arms, ‘Hey, hey, who do I need to stab?’ They struggle a little, ‘kill it, kill it please’. That’s all Wilford needs to charge in the direction Writer came from, drawing his pistol. As he runs, he passes a small, scruffy bear attached to a moving Roomba. Writer shrieks hysterically, and bolts away, dragging Eric with them by the arm. The source of their fear, the Roomba bear, with it’s devilish eyes, sharp grin, muddy stained apparel and bone white (yellow?) claws.

Wilford, at the sound of their scream, pivots, and shoots the bear. He hits his target, and sparks fly as the bullet collided with the metal inside of the bear. It’s actually a small animatronic, like those children’s toys. Wilford laughs, ‘Not so mighty now, are you?!’

Yancy walks up to it, and squints down at it. ‘Is this the thing theyse was scared of?’ He jolts back as it moves toward him suddenly, faster than before. He acquiesces to himself that he can see why Writer was scared of it, and mind set, kicks it straight in the head, the toe of his shoe impacting directly on the bear’s cheap plastic nose.

‘Good job, Yancy-!’

Yancy’s kick has bent the metal of the bear’s endo framing, and it’s head now stoops to the side, cheek touching it’s shoulder, only serving to make it more terrifying, with it’s nose hanging on by a few threads and several of it’s triangular teeth kicked out and bent out of place.

Writer had crept back, and been congratulating Yancy when they both realized the bear’s new form. They scream again, dragging Eric with them out of the area, nearly running into one of the Jim twins.

The bear increases in speed, with all Egos parting to avoid getting their feet run over, and the few stragglers running away. Wilford takes one look at the reenergized Bear and books it, ‘Not today, Batman!’

The bear chases in the direction Writer had gone, and upon seeing it coming towards them, the Jims call it quits and nearly fall over each other trying to escape.

Meanwhile, Writer had been encountered by Google IRL, as they had run into the room dragging a winded Eric behind them. They showed no interest in stopping, and backpedaled when the large android had stepped in front of them.

‘Mx. Writer, I suggest you release Eric Derekson. He is showing signs of over exertion. In addition, may I query what you are running from so frantically? You exhibit signs of elevated fear.’

Writer releases their grip on Eric after a moment, both of the humans breathing deeply in to try and replenish their oxygen supply, lapsing into a short coughing fit after breathing in too much.

Writer explains, ‘There’s this little demon on the loose and it’s after us! Wilford shot it and Yancy kicked it’s face in but it only got stronger!’ As they speak, the bot’s expression deadpans further and further.

‘A demon.’

‘Yes.’

‘Demons do not exist, Mx. Writer.’

‘Well this one does!’

Behind them, the Roomba mounted bear catches up, and upon hearing it, Writer pales visibly, making to run before they’re stopped by Google.

The AI is utterly disappointed. This is a new low for humanity.

‘If this cleaning device is of such issue to you, allow me to dispose of it.’

‘NO! It’s too dangerous!’ Writer yelps, and Google glares over at them, seeing that the human refuses to budge on the frankly ridiculous matter.

‘Then allow me to disable it, at least.’ The android grits out between his clenched artificial teeth, gesturing with his forearm and head to the projected field over said forearm, filled with permissions boxes and lines of coding.

The human relents anxiously, and they and Eric watch as the bot in front of them types in commands at rapid speed, tapping and swiping away boxes and alerts after reading them at inhuman speed.

The sound of the Roomba deactivating fills the room and an anxious moments passes before Writer hesitantly bursts into celebration. Google rolls his eyes, but under the ruckus, only he is able to hear the tone emitting from the Roomba, signifying it’s activation. His eyes widen fractionally, before, ‘Not to cause you alarm, Mx. Writer, but it appears the Roomba cleaning device is activated once again.’

Writer pauses, eyes drifting to the side, meeting the plastic eyes of the bear, seeing the glow, before shrieking in terror. They try to run away, but are failing, because they’re not strong or heavy enough to pull the Android that they are currently trying to drag out of the room. They release Google, and flee, leaving the bot and Eric behind.

They run through a few rooms before running into (quite literally) Bing (ouch). ‘Hey, dude! What’s wrong?’ They explain the situation, and Bing’s eyes widen momentarily before the bear rides into the room and he realizes that it’s the ‘demon’ his friend is so scared of. ‘Oh, don’t worry bro! I’ve got this,’ cool and assured. He pats the sides of their shoulders with his hands, grabs their hand, and runs off.

‘Where are we going?!’

‘To find K

They find him, a few minutes later, out in the yard, surrounded by his squirrel subjects, who scamper away as they run to him before stopping. King peers at them, peanut butter strewn across his cape and shirt and smothered over his chin in a mock beard.

‘What’s the meaning of this?! You have frightened my subjects!’

‘King, bro, we need some of your peanut butter. Writer’s got a monster chasing them that can only be defeated by peanut butter.’

Writer looks at Bing incredulously, before looking back at King as he begins to mutter to himself, hand smoothing across his chin in the way that the more eccentric of Mark’s Egos do.

‘A monster? Why, that sounds horrible! They may very well have endangered my subjects by coming here! What if it follows them here?!’ He pauses for a moment, before peering up at them suddenly, and smiling after a moment, in a moment that reminds Writer of Wilford in his more sane moments.

‘But if it’s for a friend, then I can’t say no. To the Royal stash!’ He stands up suddenly, and runs off into the woods, Bing and Writer sharing a glance, proud on Bing’s part and bewildered on Writer’s, before following suit.

They follow the vibrant, billowing red of King’s cloak, before finding him peering between two entwined trees, into a hole large enough to fit Writer’s fists side by side. He glanced back at them with a grin, before turning back and reaching a hand inside, grabbing something, indicated by his eyes crinkling at the edges from his excited smile, and pulling it back out.

The three behold his treasure for a few moments, before King hands it to Writer with a kind, sagely smile. Closing their hands around it and patting their hands. Before straightening up, turning away, and running off, yelling, ‘I’M KING OF THE SQUIRRELS!’

Writer, hands covered in peanut butter, looks at Bing. Bing is gazing off after King, an easygoing smile on his face, before he turns back to them, grabs their arm, and says, ‘Now c’mon, we gotta discuss the next section of our plan!’ They run off, Writer stumbling behind their android friend.

Thirty minutes later finds the two in the kitchen, Writer looking over a spoon held in their hand, listening to Bing before turning their head to him.

‘Yeah, so what next?’

‘That’s the tricky part! We bait it. We gotta catch it off guard and get close enough to get the bait on it!’

‘WHAT?!’ Writer looks at him like he’s insane, ‘and you said ‘bait’ twice.’

‘I know! That’s the genius! We’re gonna use you as the bait! And the peanut butter is the bait for something else! Or, someone else.’

‘Wait, wHY AM I THE BAIT?!?’

‘Because you’re the one it’s after! If you can lure it into a good position, then we can tag it. Downside is, you’re also gonna have to be the one to do the tagging, cus I’m not built for agility and speed, despite my awesomeness.’

‘How is that supposed to work?’

Bing beckons them to his side, and they walk over, peering down at the counter where he’s (poorly) sketched out some schematics. ‘So, if you can lure it to this three way section in the hallway on the right, enter the room connected to it, then come out of the other door back into the hallway behind it, you should be able to dash in and smear it with the PB without the J.’

Writer looks up at him with a grin, ‘Pffttt, ‘PB without the J’? You’re such a dork,’ looking back down, and making the route they’ll have to take in their mental map of the house. ‘Yeah, that might work…’ they say reluctantly, impressed by Bing’s strategy.

‘But what’s the end goal with this,’ they ask, peering over at him quizzically. He turns his head to look down at them, his hair falling over his face and glasses starting to slip down his nose as a boyish grin overtakes his face, ‘That’s the surprise!’ He winks at them playfully, before turning to them and gesturing for the spoon and peanut butter jar, which had been cleaned off and had been sitting on the counter next to where Writer is standing.

They give him a clueless look for a moment, looking around and down at their hands before realizing what he was asking for and handing the items over bashfully. The AI chuckles, turning back to the counter with one last glance at his companion before opening the jar, spoon clenched in the hand holding the jar, and turning the lid with the other.

Writer harrumphs playfully under their breath, looking up at Bing, ‘I could’ve done that, y’know!’ Bing grins, leaning down slightly, ‘But this way’s faster!’ Writer ‘uh’s, mock offended, ‘Are you saying I’m not strong enough?!’

Bing laughs, shoulders shaking, before he sets the lid down on the counter, hand raising to his shades, taking them off. He turns halfway to Writer, and puts the shades on them, looking down at them with a smirk, ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ before booping their nose lightly with the tip of his finger.

Writer flushes, flabbergasted, as their taller friend turns back to the jar and releases it, keeping the spoon, and then plunges it into the jar, scooping up as much peanut butter as he possibly can. ‘Hey! I can do that!’ Writer protests, regaining their footing in the situation. Bing looks at them mischievously, ‘yeah, but it needs to pass my standard.’

They shove him lightheartedly, ‘since when were you an expert on peanut butter scooping’, in a joking manner. The android replies similarly, ‘since I got my latest algorithm update.’

Bing pulls out the spoon, eyeing the load of peanut butter on it, before nodding affirmatively, turning to Writer and handing it to them carefully. ‘There you go, all set.’

‘Now what?’

‘Now, we figure out where it is. I’ll page Google.’

Bing brings his hand up to the temple of his head, pressing two fingers to it. Writer giggles at the sight, and he smiles.

Elsewhere in the house, Google had been going over what he had missed with the Roomba, having long since parted ways with Eric Derekson, after calming the man and ascertaining that he would be fine, telling him to go rest. Google, in his distraction by Writer, had missed a command and it had resulted in the Roomba reactivating.

Suddenly, Google receives a message, opening it he finds it to be from Bing. He rolls his eyes, but looks through it. From the janky data lines he parses out that Bing is requesting that he access the security system and ascertain the whereabouts of the Roomba from earlier. He reasons that his lesser quality counterpart probably encountered Mx. Writer.

Google accesses the system, finding the bear in the living room. He sends his findings back to Bing, and goes back to coding.

Back in the kitchen, Bing reads through the message, before turning to Writer with a large grin, ‘Looks like he’s in the living room! Luckily, that’s not far from our hallway.’

‘Yeah… yay…’ Writer tries to share in their friend’s enthusiasm, but can’t help dreading their coming part to play.

Bing picks up on their reluctance, walking over to his friend before hunching over and ducking his head slightly to be on eye level with them.

‘Hey, you’ve got this! That thing won’t know what hit it!’ He socks them in the shoulder very carefully, keeping his strength in mind. They look up at him, doubt clear to see, and he hunkers down to seem smaller, placing his hands on their elbows, ‘I’m serious, dude, you can do this, that bear won’t see you coming from a mile away!’

He puts on a funny voice to drive the point home, and they giggle despite themself. ‘There we go,’ he grins, standing back up. ‘Now let’s get ‘im!’ He cheers.

Twelve minutes later finds Writer waiting around the corner of the hallway for Bing’s signal, peanut butter spoon clenched firmly in hand. In their ear, they hear, ‘Now!’

They dash out, catching the bear’s eye, and run to the hallway junction, the bear in hot pursuit. They turn the corner and slip into the room on their right, hearing the bear turn the corner only to stop, unable to see them.

They quietly open the door in front of them, step back out into the hallway, and turn the corner, before sprinting to the bear and smearing the peanut butter on it. They sprint away, back to the kitchen, where Bing is waiting for them.

They reach the kitchen, and nearly run into Bing, who catches them and helps them to sit down on a stool. He grabs their shoulders and proceeds to help them steady their breathing, before getting them a water bottle. ‘Now what?’ Writer asks, guzzling the water despite Bing’s protests.

‘Now,’ Bing says, with a grin, ‘we go to the backyard.’ The two walk to the backyard, where Bing calls the Jim twins. ‘Hey, Jim, could you two lure that bear thing to the backyard? I’ll get Dark to let you go to that one place… you know what I’m talking about, right? Okay, good, thanks.’ He turns back to Writer, ‘And now we wait.’

‘Why are they bringing it here?!’ Writer asks him, in confusion. He grins, winking at them, with a finger to his lips in a ‘shy’ gesture, ‘Just wait!’

Two minutes later, the Jim twins come tearing into the backyard hollering at the tops of their lungs, with the bear in pursuit. Bing puts his fingers to his lips and whistles long and clear.

The group starts to hear bushes cracking, and the footfalls of something heavy. A tan blur shoots into the clearing, comes to a stop, and looks around. Bing whistles again, pointing to the bear, ‘Go get ‘em, HeeHoo!’ And the blur, now identified as a naked man, takes off again, heading straight for the Roomba-mounted bear. The bear seems to realize it’s mistake, and tries to back up and retreat, but it’s too late.

HeeHoo seizes it in his mighty jaws, and shakes his head violently. Sparks fly, and the bear’s head finally gives up, tearing off of it’s base with a loud ‘crunch’.

Writer congratulates HeeHoo excitedly, nearly crying with relief. The other Egos enter the backyard en masse, drawn to the horrendous noises coming from the area. Wilford celebrates, dancing around in a hap-hazardous manner. Dark finally exits the house, looking over the group, before shaking his head and turning to go back inside. Wilford seizes him, and drags him to the others.

Amidst the chaos, Yancy walks up to the defeated bear, kicking it over to end it’s reign of terror. Unfortunately for him, the job was already done. He’s thanked by Writer regardless.

[artsyfangirl]

You are SO fucking unhinged. SMH /pos

Unhinged Dates with the Obey Me Cast.

AN: This was just a silly haha but I had way too much fun with it. It was supposed to be one line each...

Leviathan takes you to go see a whale fall in person. He uses magic so you don't die, obvi, but come on guys!!! Whale fall!!!

Barbatos will take you back in time to witness some of his favorite historical events. You can have a picnic while watching Pompeii from a safe distance.

Satan takes you to a real murder mystery party. Someone sold their soul to him and it's time to collect. Why not make a date of it and kill the poor fool at their own party?

Asmodeus takes you out for the Elizabeth Bathory spa treatment. Virgin blood does wonders for your complexion!

Belphegor will pull a Freddy Kruger and take you with him to haunt some poor shmuck's dreams.

Lucifer is a classy guy. You can sip demonus while watching a Shakespeare reenactment of your choice. When a character dies, so does the actor! Don't worry, love. It's just the souls of the damned. Part of their punishment, y'know?

Beelzebub takes you to a restaurant that used to be all the rage before it was shut down just prior to the exchange program. But the locals kicked up such a fuss it reopened. Just... ignore the fact the menu looks like something the Sawyer family would be offering.

Mammon had a phase where he was really into jumping off of buildings. If you find old Devilgram pics of him divebombing the ground before flying off at the last minute and give your best puppy dog eyes, I'm sure Mammon would be delighted to hold you close as he indulges in an old pass time!

Diavolo will let you join while he sentences souls to damnation. As his future co-monarch, it's your right to learn about the ins and outs of the kingdom. You can even wear a crown made of bones if you want!

[k1llermustang]

mr jacob pitts came up with this line all by himself. unsurprisingly. you would say that wouldn't you

[s0fter-sin]

i don’t know how many times i need to say it, tag your reader and self insert fics and imagines as reader and self insert

[artsyfangirl]

Pookie OMG WTF WHY THAT’S NO FAIR?!?

Never forget what they take from us

[marlynnofmany]

You can't edit a blank page! Go go go!

(x)

[taempy]

I just don't get it.??... 🤦‍♀️

You don't have to read it. Read something else.

Fanfics are free and shared with you. Not for you. This isn't a Michelin restaurant.

While you apparently make it a hobby to waste your time hating on what other people enjoy, fandom is a place where you curate your own experience. Think about how you would feel if you saw someone publicly mocking your taste and work. Strange.

It's not "madness" to enjoy fanfic. Your ceaseless complaints about popular fanfiction come across as jealousy. Do you have any real complaints about the fic aside from "it's popular"? What a saint.

[artsyfangirl]

*whistling*

hahah don’t mind me I don’t have 4 more husbands whaaaat????

*pushing along a very suspicious shaped “pile of blankets”*

🤨

THIS IS A STICK UP, HAND ‘EM OVER FOR INSPECTION!! 😠👉👉

[artsyfangirl]

Yeah, we could do that.

genuinely excited for this

[tellmegoodbye]

In honor of me returning from my social media grave and finally finishing this fic, here is one final snippet!!!

Yes I know I literally just got back but I'm excited, okay. Push coda is officially no longer elusive. She is ALIVE.

"I love you, TK,” Carlos gasps. “I love you so much." The thought of TK not knowing that is still a pain weighing on his heart. He wants to ask him so many questions about the past few months, if they had been as hard for him as they had been for Carlos. He'll eventually want TK to tell him everything so that he can hug him and kiss him and swear that he'll never allow them to fall apart like that ever again. They both spent so long feeling alone and broken beyond repair, but they'll never have to be alone again. It’s a promise spoken through presses of their lips, gentle kisses that say I love you and I’m never letting you go. TK echoes him with tears in his eyes. Quiet words whispered against his lips because neither of them can force themselves to part again. "I love you too."

I've been gone for too long to be comfortable tagging loads of people since I don't know who still does these, but I still wanted to jump right back in and say hi since I still feel a little guilty for taking so long.

Tagging: @strandnreyes @welcometololaland @thisbuildinghasfeelings @carlos-tk

[lau219]

PSA: If you ask a writer about the progress of a fic or request an update, you are then legally required obligated to comment and/or reblog when you get what you asked for, either as yourself or anonymously.

It’s called common courtesy, people. Show some appreciation.

[lightseoul]

i have so much in store for the 2k drabble event but the lack of engagements beyond just likes is lowkey disheartening .

[lunarrosette]

I like need to just scream into the void abt nark which to be fair I have been doing in a discord with some of my friends bc they don’t know nark at all really but it just like AAAAHAGSYUAGSHSHHDGRHUS ya know?

[shadowbrightshine]

The only things you need to tag on ao3 are applicable archive warnings (graphic violence, major character death, underage, non-con) or "choose not to use archive warnings" (assuming archive warnings apply, if none apply then choose "no archive warnings apply"). That's it. You can have a fic with no tags other than the fandom and the archive warnings. You don't even have to rate your fic, in fact if the fic has an inappropriate rating and gets reported, it'll get changed to unrated.

I mean in terms of "required" that's true.

But doing that is a dick move. And you'll probably be reported for it.

If you're writing something that requires a few of those warnings you should include why you added them so people can filter it out without trouble. Or search for it. If you don't want hate from people who don't want to see it, let them filter it out and there is no issue.

You can't really don't like don't read from the start if you don't know what you're reading and plenty of people will not just leave the fic. They'll get mad.

And yes you can choose not to use the archive warnings but if you do you should probably tag things anyways.

Like I've chosen not to use the warnings because they didn't actually fit what was happening. Then I used tags to say what it actually was. Because it was still something a lot of people might be uncomfortable with.

It's courtesy. And you should tag your fics.

That's one of the biggest draws of ao3.

[warningimboring]

Reading about what is happening in Palestine is like being hit by a grief that is so absolute it renders me speechless. But remaining to stay silent in the face of it would be like I was being complicit in what is happening. Multiple times I have seen footage and read news from the past week and I've been kicking myself for not being a doctor. For not somehow being there to help. But all I am is an aspiring poet, and a shitty one at that. So I'll use the craft I have with me and hope that it makes a difference.

What is happening in Palestine is genocide. Plain and simple. We can use fancy words and what-aboutism all we want but that doesn't take away from the reality of it. It is erasing people who have been there for generations. It is imprisoning them for decades, treating them like subhumans and then condemning them whenever they take a stance, however that may be. It is slandering them and blaming them for their oppression. It is reducing a person into a number, a mere statistic.

Notice how in the first paragraph I gave you tiny little idiosyncrasies about myself? When you read about the 1000 dead children (which in itself is a truly awful phrase) what I need you to understand is that the implications of it are far more deep than just those 1000 lives lost. It is the families, the communities who have lost them. It is doctors who have had to pronounce infants dead. It is parents who have had to bury their young. It is an identity, wholly unique to itself- someone like no one else, lost.

Life is hard. This whole blog is dedicated to the angst of existence, the hope of existence, the pursuit of existence. Those people who were killed, all of them, they had lives too. They had existences that they clawed into being. They had hopes and dreams and fears. They had names. They had families. They were human. They bled and cried and laughed and probably made horrible jokes that no one laughed at and had favourite stories and opinions and tiny little quirks that made them just weird enough to be real.

They had the right to exist. They had the right to be free. Free of fear. Free of oppression. But they were denied those rights. And instead of condemning this great loss, we have splintered into a mass of rioting opinions. The shards are sharp with hate. This atrocity, this continuing atrocity, is justified, supported, celebrated. Oh, how we condemn ourselves.

This is wrong. Plain and simple. This has got to stop immediately. They have been denied safe passage away from the rain of outlawed chemicals and missiles and bombs. They have been denied humanitarian aid. They have been denied basic human necessities including food and water. The medical systems that they have is being crippled. Their hospitals are being bombed at. The places they shelter in (including UN camps) are being bombed at. The people who bring their stories to the world are threatened, held at gun point and killed. What Israel is doing is wrong.

But this is not all they are. These people have dug themselves out of the rubble the world buried them in. They have bled and cried and broken bones and they still stretch an arm to help each other. I am not glorifying their suffering, I am just in awe of it. They are doing their part and we have to do ours. If this is to continue it would be another great stain on humanity's soul. Like the holocaust. Like the atom bombs. The weight of it would be all of ours to bear.

I know me saying this here probably means nothing. I'm a nobody with pretty much no audience, but even if there's no one in the forest to hear me, I must fall. What is happening is horrendous and if I'm powerless to change it, the least I could do is bear witness. The least I could do is speak about it.

May God make it easy for the Palestinians. May God help us all and guide us to that which is right.

[artsyfangirl]

OMG!! Sheyfhurnynye it’s adorable!!

@artsyfangirl ‘s trick!

Little gal! Carved an Pumpkin!